


What You Wish For

by RedHawkeRevolver



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: And snarky Hawke, But how can they not?, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hawke is a brat in bed, Holidays, Satinalia, She needed Silenced, Smut, So Fenris could have some peace, They really don't want to love her, Threesome - F/M/M, Two salty pretty boys, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHawkeRevolver/pseuds/RedHawkeRevolver
Summary: Hawke demands that Fenris accept a Satinalia gift. Fenris warns her that she may get what she wishes for...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bushviper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushviper/gifts).



> This is for our TMB gang secret santa gift exchange! I had the fantastic bushviper, who requested a rivalmance Fenris x Smartass FemMageHawke getting it on with Cullen for the holidays. I really missed writing for Fenris again and had a ton of fun with this fic so I hope it fits the bill BV! Happy Satinalia, here's some porn...
> 
> Everyone please read all the other stories in the gift exchange (see collection link above) they are all super fun and holiday fluff filled from all of my favorite fic writers!

**** “You know, there’s a curse in Tevinter, Hawke. It goes: _may you get what you wish for_.”

Hawke tossed aside the blanket and a shock of cold air stung Fenris’ skin. Before he could object, she perched herself above him, straddling his waist.

He tried not to sigh in protest, but it came out anyway, sounding every bit as annoyed as he was about to be. She had that _look_. She wasn’t going to let this ridiculous frivolity die.

After a second sigh, this time one of resignation, he took a glance at the window to see the snow still falling in silent sheets outside. Deciding a warm bed with Hawke’s warm limbs wrapped around him was preferable to walking back to his derelict mansion in the dark, he braced himself for whatever rant she was about to release. She’d tire soon enough and lay back down. If she didn’t, he had ways he could redirect her.

In fact, he thought it best to lay the groundwork just in case. With steady pressure, he ran his hands along her thighs. Goosebumps appeared beneath his fingertips and she purred at the touch, wiggling her naked bottom on his abdomen contentedly.

Sadly, she wasn’t yet distracted enough to stop talking.

“That doesn’t sound like much of a curse. And why do you have to make everything so negative all the time? I just asked you what you wanted for Satinalia. An appropriate answer would have been something like, _‘I could use a new set of gauntlets, Hawke, so I don’t leave claw marks on your arse anymore when I feel you up’_. Yet somehow, you manage to turn my expression of affection and holiday cheer into a curse. And a stupid one at that.”

He almost reminded her that his own past proved the validity of the curse well enough, but he’d sworn to himself he would never let those distant memories invade their bed again. He opted for an attempt at vague wisdom.

“You’d do well to be wary of how accurate that curse could be.” He then added simply, “And I don’t need anything.”

An exaggerated pout and an overly dramatic moan formed the bulk of her response. “It’s not about _needing_ something, Fenris, it’s about _wanting_ something.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Ugh!” She swatted him on the chest. “Come on! Would it kill you to play along? Forget about the gauntlets, it doesn’t have to be anything practical. In fact, it shouldn’t be practical at all…”

“Much like this conversation.”

“Oh, stop!” Her weak attempt at an attack took on a different flavor as she raked her fingers down his stomach with a sensual slowness. The subtle tingle of magic on them awakened his lyrium, not with the familiar burn of pain, but a soothing heat as the power of the lines rose up to meet the power in her hands.

He let his eyes fall shut as he enjoyed the sensation. It still amazed him how profoundly different her touch was from all others. Or, perhaps it was only his perception of it that was different. In quiet moments like this, his bloodlust and hate quelled. Her swagger and sarcasm died away. He was not a killer, not a slave. She was not a leader, not a mage. Things were simple. And that simplicity was yet another unexpected manifestation of freedom for him to celebrate, without need of a holiday to do so.

Her hands wandered back up and his eyes shot open when she pinched his nipples playfully. His quiet moment was apparently over.

“How about something fun in bed as your gift? You could tie me up?”

“I wasn’t aware tying you up was something special to wish for, since you begged me for it just last week.”

“Okay, fine. I could tie you up?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hm. Right. Sorry. Blindfold me?”

“Can I put a gag in your mouth?”

“Very funny. If I thought you were serious, I’d say yes, but since you’re being snide the answer is no.”

“You don’t seriously think I’m not already aware that you would be willing to do a great number of things with me in this bed, Satinalia or not?”

“Well, you don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

“ _Venhedis_ , Hawke, enough! I don’t want a gift and I have no desire for wishes.” Seeing a perfect opportunity to at least change positions if not topics, he grabbed her waist and flipped her around. Pinned beneath him now, she spread her legs so he could nestle between them. He was half a breath away from claiming her lips in a kiss, and claiming blessed silence along with it, when she brought her hand up to stop his mouth.

“How about a threesome?”

_She was going to be the death of him._

“A _what?”_

“A threesome. Every man wishes for a threesome, right?”

“Not this one.”

“You’re a big fat liar! I bet if you came home one day to find me and Isabela both naked in this bed you’d dive right in.”

Ignoring the absurd imagery, Fenris felt a slight quickening of his heartbeat at the word ‘home’. Since he’d finally laid the worst of his demons to rest and still found Hawke willing to accept him as he was, _her_ home had been _his_ home as much as he wanted it to be. It was a concept he was still getting used to. A shared home. A shared life.

He grinned like the wolf that he was. “I’m not really one to share.”

Descending again for a kiss, this time he was able to stifle her prattle and demonstrate just how possessive a former slave could be. The last thing he needed was for her to think it a good idea to make her ludicrous scenario with Isabela real. The thought of enduring the pirate-whore’s nonsensical rambling about ‘magical fisting’ in the setting of a midnight tryst wasn’t the least bit arousing.

“You’re trying to distract me.” She mumbled around his tongue as she half-heartedly tried to fight him off.

Rather than relent, however, he leaned his pelvis into hers and rubbed his cock against her core. She was still slick from their lovemaking earlier in the evening. Just the thought of her wearing his come between her legs made him want to coat her in it again and watch it run down her thighs.

Hard and ready in an instant, and without parting their lips, he pulled back, about to drive inside her. Patience, however, was not a virtue Hawke knew. Before he could act, she bucked her hips up and sheathed his sword to the hilt. She locked her heels together at his back, obviously keen for a rough ride. He pulled her up and sat back. Without letting her slide down onto his shaft, he held her suspended, his hands under her buttocks, and denied her control.

“What makes you think you have the upper hand here?” His rhetorical question went unanswered as she struggled in his arms, trying to lower herself onto him.

After letting her squirm for a moment longer and letting her curse him for a sadist, he dropped her right on his waiting cock. Her satisfied moan was far too triumphant. If he was to be denied a night free of her silly nagging then he wanted to deny her as well. Perhaps he _was_ a sadist. The freedom to be so was practically orgasmic all by itself. He pulled her off him again and threw her backwards onto the bed. She immediately tried to get up, but he pushed her down and grabbed her breasts in his hands. He squeezed roughly and then pinched the hard little nipples to the sounds of her impotent whines.

“Fenrisssss…. _fuck_ me.” The hiss of his name from her filthy mouth was gratifying like nothing else. If he wished for anything in life, it was to hear that sound every night forever. The sound of a mage in his thrall, _his_ _mage, of his choosing_ , driven to primal pleas in the dark.

“Not yet brat.” He snapped, reaching one of his hands down to her cunt. He played idly and unsatisfyingly with her drenched folds. “What in the world would make you think I would even entertain sharing this with anyone else, now that I’ve only just gotten it back?”

“Hnnnnn, it was just a suggestion.” The innocent platitude spilled from her lips even as her sinnful hips gyrated against his fingers desperate for more attention. “I was trying to make you happy, you stubborn…”

He shoved his fingers inside her and she never got the chance to say what kind of stubborn creature she thought he was. He mercilessly fucked her with his hand until she was sweating and begging for his cock. He _loved_ seeing the beads of perspiration along her brow, the tendrils of dark hair slick against the slope of her neck, the pale eyes gone black with lust staring up at him. He loved _her_ , damn her. Against all logic he loved her. Against all sanity. She’d robbed him of all reason and in it’s place she gave him herself. Hawke the cunning, Hawke the daring, Hawke the mage, Hawke the Champion. All were his.

He wanted to let her continue to writhe and beg, deny her his cock and force her to come in his hand, but the temptation was too great. He pulled his fingers from her and plunged them into her mouth as he plunged his hardness into her cunt. She sucked with eager abandon and he fucked her until the entire world around them was snuffed out and the only light that existed was the magic inside her and the lyrium in his skin.

She came with a bellow of victory and clenched around him so tightly he couldn’t hold off his own release. Thrusting deeply, he tensed, arched, and spilled into her even as she was still shuddering beneath him.

Arguments and misplaced good intentions were now forgotten, at least by Hawke, and their bedroom was silent once again. She kissed him and pulled him down until she was situated curled alongside him. In no time at all, she was asleep. He stayed awake, watching the snow and moonlight flicker by turns outside. Though his mind was pleasantly numb from his climax, one thought pushed its way to the surface.

 _What_ would _he wish for…?_

**_XXXX_ **

“Have you seen Fenris?” Hawke perched herself on the edge of Aveline’s desk. The guard captain hadn’t even looked up when she entered through the office’s open door.

“He isn’t with you? He’s always with you.” Aveline still didn’t look up, continuing to sign her way through a stack of papers. The look on her face said she'd much rather be stabbing them with her sword than signing them. Hawke sympathized. Wading through bureaucracy was no way to spend the holidays. Especially when one was a newlywed.

“He stayed over last night but he was gone when I woke up. He left a note though.” Hawke said the last part as a quick qualification. She was still a touch nervous she was going to wake up one day to find him gone again for good. It was a silly anxiety at this point, he’d more than proven he shared her commitment to their relationship. Twice last night, in fact.

“He said he had errands to run, but didn’t say where he was going or when he’d be back. I was hoping to spend a festive Satinalia Eve together, so I thought I’d try to find him.”

She shivered in the drafty office, wishing for a little of the warmth she always enjoyed when Fenris was around. Even when he just held his hand at the small of her back, the subtle point of contact radiated energy all through her. Her elf was nothing if not a furnace. A wonderful, deliciously lyrium-covered furnace of body heat and tingling magic.

He’d probably kill her if she ever said that to him. Well, probably not, but he’d definitely bitch about the tingly magic bit until she found him some slavers to kill. Anyway, it wasn’t as if she ever held back from telling him to his face what a firebrand he was between ~~_her legs_ ~~ the sheets.

“Well he hasn’t been by here, sorry, Hawke.”

“Speaking of Satinalia Eve, why don’t you just call it a day and go bask in wedded bliss or something for your first holiday as a married woman?”

“Donnic will be back from his patrol this afternoon. I can finish up by the time he returns.” Aveline set down her quill and pushed back her chair. “So, you and Fenris are doing well then?”

“We are, thanks for asking. I tried to get him to tell me what he wanted for a Satinalia gift but he got grumpy about it.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of some...Oh!” Aveline interrupted herself. “I remember Donnic said Fenris won a fair bit of coin from Cullen at their card game last week. Perhaps he went to the Gallows to square up the debt.”

Hawke rolled her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was trek up to the Gallows. But, for Fenris, she’d trek into the Void itself so, to the Gallows she would go.

“Thanks Aveline, I’ll try Cullen. Happy Satinalia.”

“Same to you, Hawke.”

The knee deep drifts of snow that had fallen the previous night made Hawke’s short sojourn slow like...well, slow like a mage on her way to the Gallows. Stray flakes were still flitting around in the air and she managed to catch a few on her tongue as her thoughts wandered. Hawke was happy Fenris was not only settling into their bond but also settling into some meaningful friendships of his own. Not that she wasn’t friends with Donnic per say, but he was someone Fenris had cultivated a relationship with outside of his time with her or Aveline. As far as Fenris’ friendship with Cullen…

Cullen was complicated. She definitely wasn’t friends with Cullen. She was _friendly_ with Cullen. She’d be a bloody fool not to be friendly with Cullen. She couldn’t very well flip the Templar Knight-Captain a two finger salute, no matter how much some of his careless opinions irked her. If her father had taught her nothing else, it was to exercise prudence when it came to her magic. And staying in the Knight-Captain’s good graces, when everyone knew damn well the Champion of Kirkwall was an apostate, was nothing if not the definition of prudence. Besides, they had much the same opinion on blood magic and she and Fenris were always happy to help him out if a few maleficar needed to meet the Maker.

It also didn’t hurt that he was pretty. She recalled a conversation she’d had with Varric once about Fenris. Varric seemed to think she had a soft spot for crazy. She much preferred to think of it as a soft spot for handsome and angsty. Rumors about Cullen’s past abounded but never did he speak of it in specifics. At least not to her. Where Fenris was open with his tendency to become unhinged, Cullen’s was always reined tightly in. Like a chained beast, she could see a darkness behind his eyes sometimes. It seemed to lurk under polite piety and the respectful execution of duty, waiting for a break in the man’s resolve to strike.

Perhaps it was that iron-willed restraint in the face of volatility, more than anything, that made her ~~_like_ ~~ tolerate him. He was an attractive curiosity armored in seven stone of steel. A beautiful threat that could smite her on a whim. And, just like Fenris, he smelled of lyrium. The mere sensation of the stuff in the air made her magic vibrate inside her, doubly so when she was in the presence of them both. Cullen was very very much like Fenris indeed.

Which was probably why Cullen was one of the only people in Kirkwall that Fenris didn’t automatically hate on principle, so the two of them had become fast friends. Whether Hawke ~~_liked_ ~~ tolerated the Templar or not, she would suck it up for Fenris and leave her mage rage at home. As for her secret ‘soft spot’, well that was something that she could keep to herself too.

Before she knew it, she’d mused her way to Cullen’s office. The door was shut so she knocked out a rhythm on it but, before she even finished the tune, he bid her enter.

He was sitting at his desk, like Aveline, scowling down at a stack of parchment and wielding a quill like it was a weapon. Also like Aveline, he didn’t bother to look up at her. She attempted to sit on the edge of his desk, but before her bottom even contacted the weathered wood, he lifted his eyes and leveled her a look like a warning shot across her bow. Rethinking her casual approach, she decided to just stand next to the desk with her hands in her pockets.

“Can I help you, Champion?” Cullen’s greeting was terse as he set down his quill and leaned back in his chair. His armor creaked with the movement.

She cocked her head. “Do you always wear your full plate to sit at your desk and do paperwork? Isn’t that a bit excessive? And heavy?”

He humored her pointless question, but only just. “A Templar must always be at the ready, Hawke. I wouldn’t expect you to appreciate that.”

There was no way on the Maker’s green Thedas she was going to let _that_ gem of a statement pass. With a sly smile she replied, “ _Always at the ready,_ huh? I knew those skirts were hiding something. Must be drafty though.”

Cullen’s expression changed not a fraction, but she noted with supreme satisfaction that she’d made him blush. “Are you quite finished?” He said impatiently, as if he thought sounding affronted would wash the color from his cheeks. “Is there a reason you’re here, or have you run out of friends to annoy today and thus come to darken my doorstep?”

“Are you saying _we’re_ not friends, Knight-Captain? I’m hurt.”

“Oh, Maker’s blood, Hawke, what do you want? I’m trying to finish up some work. I have plans for the holiday this evening that I can’t be late for.”

Feeling badly now and not wanting to keep him from his likely well deserved holiday recreation, Hawke backed down. “That’s why I’m here, actually. I was looking for Fenris so we could spend some holiday time together. Aveline said he might have passed by the Gallows. Have you seen him?”

There was a long pause before Cullen answered. “Fenris was here earlier, yes. I owed him from last week’s Diamondback game. We made an arrangement to settle up and he left some time ago.”

“Why don’t _I_ ever get invited to these Diamondback games? I’d be happy to relieve you of some coin. Or bluff you out of that absurd armor.”

Cullen gifted her with another blush, but he was ready with a retort. “Fenris probably doesn’t invite you because the poor man needs time away from your incessant chattering.”

“Awwww, feeling like you want to silence me, Templar?” Hawke laughed and she couldn’t stop herself from throwing out a cheeky challenge. “You can go right ahead and try.”

Cullen stood so swiftly that Hawke embarrassed herself by jumping back a step. She was quick to collect her pride again, but her bravado ebbed when he slowly prowled around the desk to stand in front of her. His height was towering, all leather and metal and narrowed eyes looking down. A waft of lyrium drifted towards her and the temperature in the room rose precipitously as thoughts of Fenris from last night flashed in her mind’s eye, his lyrium alight and his hard cock pounding into her.

With a tone both soft and dangerous, Cullen called out her dare. “If we were to move this ‘friendship’ in that direction, Hawke, I can assure you I would not _try_ to silence you, I would simply _do it_. So, unless you’d like to test this tenuous goodwill we have going, you’d do well to exercise some checks on your own audacity when you’re in the Gallows. It’s a wonder Fenris puts up with you. He obviously has more patience than I.”

Hawke cleared her throat and worked her voice back up to a confident timbre. “The two of you are like peas in a pod. A very unfun pod with boring peas. It’s a wonder _I_ continue to put up with either of _you_.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned with mock hurt.

When Cullen spoke again, it was with a tone that Hawke might have called menacing, but she convinced herself otherwise. She didn’t think strategic foreshadowing was anything a grunt Templar would bother with, even a Knight-Captain.

“Keep running your mouth, Champion. One day the chickens will come home to roost and you may find you have some regrets regarding your behavior.”

“I always wanted chickens. They’re adorable. Plus, free eggs.”

At that, the strange tense moment was broken and Cullen gave up and shook his head. He turned back to his desk and waved her away. “There’s the door, Hawke. Don’t let it hit you in the arse on the way out.”  He paused then and added with surprising sincerity, “Happy Satinalia.”

Hawke replied with equal sincerity. “Same to you. I hope your holiday wishes come true.”

_She might not have been so magnanimous if she’d seen the mischievous smile that spread across the Knight-Captain’s face as she walked out of his office._

A stop at the Chantry revealed that Sebastian briefly saw Fenris as he lit a prayer candle earlier after services, but the two hadn’t spoken. A stop at The Hanged Man revealed that Fenris slipped in for a quick drink with Varric earlier as well. It seemed she’d been two steps behind him all day. A stop at his mansion revealed nothing at all, since he wasn’t there.

With the sun setting, her tummy rumbling and her spirits low, Hawke dragged herself back home hoping Fenris would eventually just show up like he usually did. Luckily, having given her small ‘staff’ off for the holidays, there would be no one in residence to see her disappointment if he didn’t.

Hawke kicked the snow from her boots and peeled  off her coat with numb fingers as soon as she stepped inside the foyer. She was secretly a tiny bit happy Fenris wasn’t around because that meant she could start a roaring fire with her magic immediately, instead of fumbling around with tinder, without having to bear a cranky green-eyed look of disapproval. Scampering eagerly inside, flames already at her fingertips, she was surprised to see a fire already blazing in the hearth. Her Mabari was belly up, basking in the heat, and snoring in time with the lively snapping of the firewood.

Leaving the dog to his dreams, she bounded upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. _He was already waiting for her!_ How stupid to have wandered around all day. She should have trusted that he would come home. Would he be naked in bed already? Would he be lounging by the fire sipping at a glass of wine? Would he be hunched over the desk reading a new book, his brow furrowed, his lips silently moving through the words as he pushed away a few white locks of hair from his eyes?

Each imagined scene made her ~~_wet_ ~~ shiver with anticipation. Not bothering to silence her girlish giggle, she threw open the bedroom door to find…

“ _Cullen…_?!”

Magic came to her hands, blood rushed to her head, her heartbeat accelerated. _“What in the fucking fuck are you doing in my house!?”_ Her question came out like a crazed squeal and she felt the hairs on her head stand up on end.

Her reaction was a stark contrast to the totally calm Templar, leaning casually on the mantle, staring down into the fire. Most of her mind was buzzing in confusion, but there was a small part that happened to notice his face flushed by the heat and the subtle shadows playing against the angle of his jaw where his clean shave from the morning was starting to disappear behind evening stubble. His hair was a bit mussed with one stray curl loose against his forehead. And he was appallingly lacking in armor. He was, in fact, entirely lacking in a shirt as well. She couldn’t consciously acknowledge it, but it was that small, observant part of her that soothed her magic back from the brink of attack. It stood to reason that the Knight-Captain wouldn’t be arresting her half naked.

“It’s nice to see you again as well, Hawke.” His eyes slowly rose up to meet hers, his greeting accompanied by a sly smirk.

“What in the fucking fuck are you doing in my house?” Not trusting herself to engage in witty banter, Hawke chose to repeat herself, minus the exclamatory yelling.

Instead of answering, Cullen slowly took a step towards her, his smirk not wavering. Reflexively, she attempted to retreat, but the protective action was thwarted. She backed right into a wall of lyrium.

“Going somewhere?” Fenris had snuck up behind her to block her exit. He brought his hands up to grab her shoulders firmly. She heard him exhale and felt the breath on her neck, then he ran his tongue along the rim of her ear making her skin hum with unbidden arousal. _Damn him._ He laughed at her predictable reaction and then marched her forward. She was too ~~_curious_ ~~ dumbfounded to resist.

“I believe I was offered a Satinalia wish…” He said slowly.

It was her turn to laugh.

“Very funny, Fenris.” Looking to Cullen, she said, “You must have owed him a lot of coin to play along with this little joke.” She meant for her laughter to sound mocking. It came out nervous instead. Her next words wavered. She’d been frozen to the bone only minutes ago but now the heat from the fire was becoming stifling.

From the fire? Or was it the heat from Fenris? Or from Cullen? Heat was radiating in all directions, in waves that threatened to suffocate her. Her next words were shaky.

“I thought you weren’t one to ‘share’?”

A bargain, a hope, a doubt, a desire. What was she asking? Her pulse was throbbing in her heart and in her head.

Fenris didn’t answer her. Cullen did. The Templar walked across her bedroom to where she stood, as if he’d done it a thousand times. She, on the other hand, gawked like a schoolgirl with virgin eyes, mesmerized by the bulk of his muscle, the pale lines of old scars and the taper of his toned flanks that disappeared down into his trousers. Her elf was lithe limbs and agile grace. This Templar was massive power and unyielding strength.

He came close enough to share her space, then he stepped even closer still. She could have stopped him. She could have stopped them both. She was the Champion of Kirkwall. She’d killed an Arishok, survived a thaig full of darkspawn, felled a dragon. An elf and a Templar couldn’t battle her down, no matter how much lyrium they wielded. She could have stopped them. But she didn’t.

Part of her clung to the Satinalia excuse. She had offered Fenris a threesome. He was collecting. She should be happy he was open enough with her to feel comfortable receiving a gift like this. Another part of her, however, knew she was happy for another reason. This would hardly be forced acquiescence. Perhaps Fenris knew that. Perhaps Cullen did too.

When Cullen touched her, she almost tried to back away again, but Fenris held her fast. The Knight-Captain didn’t use his hands. He simply pressed his whole form up against hers, as he looked down on her. His muscular thigh conveniently fit itself between her legs.

“There are many ways I can have you, Mage, without Fenris needing to share this at all.” He pressed his leg against her core.

Hawke let him rub her sweet spot for the span of an overly long breath before she feigned an objection. “Listen here, Templar…”

But her complaint was silenced on her tongue... _along with her magic_. He’d done it. He’d actually done it! He silenced her! She felt both scandalized and titillated. Of course she’d experienced a silencing before, but somehow it felt different when the Templar who doled it out was naked. She thought maybe less mages would object to the practice if all Templars stripped before silencing them. Her limbs went weak and her knees buckled. Fenris caught her and held her up in strong arms. She got dizzy and the scent of lyrium in the air magnified as Fenris’ skin started to shimmer with light and Cullen’s power resonated in the aftermath of his ‘attack’.

Whispering in her ear, his infuriating smirk still plastered to his face, Cullen felt the need to gloat. “I told you I’d do it.”

She wanted to slap him. And kiss him. _And fuck him_. She wanted to fuck them both. And she wanted give Fenris a Satinalia gift he wouldn’t forget. Ever.

“Nothing to say, Hawke?” Fenris taunted, “I feel like I’ve been waiting _years_ for this moment.”

The best response she could muster was an indignant huff that the men appeared to take no note of. Fenris lifted her straight off her feet and slung her over his shoulder like a sack. He carried her over to the bed and Cullen swatted her bottom along the way.

“Hey!” She tried to glare at Cullen from her awkward angle.

“Don’t make me shut you up again. No one here is interested in anything you have to say right now.”

Fenris threw her onto the bed and looked down at her critically. “You want this, Hawke. Don’t deny it. And I find, surprisingly, that I want to see you take it. Silently and obediently. _For once_.”

Fenris then leaned forward and added softly into her ear. “Now nod your head so I know you understand that our Templar friend is going to help me fuck you within an inch of your sanity tonight.”

She smiled like a fool. It earned her a slap across the face from their Templar ‘friend’.

“Ah!” She brought her hand up to soothe the sting. Any other time or place and she might have balled up a fist and landed it right on Cullen’s nose for that. He was lucky this was not any other time or place and that he was pretty enough to get away with it.

“He said ‘nod’, Hawke. He didn’t say ‘smile’.” Cullen shook his head.  “Apparently, you are fundamentally incapable of following even the simplest of orders.”

She gave both of them a scathing look, but she held her tongue and nodded.

“And yet she learns quickly.” Fenris said with amusement. “On your knees. Now.” He gestured to the floor.

Normally she would have argued or fought back a little to make things more entertaining, but that wasn’t the game tonight apparently, and she wanted to be a good gift giver, so she complied, sliding off the bed and sinking to her knees on the floor.

Fenris backed away and sat down in the armchair by the fire. A bottle of wine she hadn’t noticed before was open and waiting on the small table beside him. He didn’t bother to pour it out into one of the three waiting glasses. He took a drink right from the bottle, then relaxed back into the chair to watch the first act of the show.

Simultaneously, the men, who both had only their trousers on, started tugging at the ties to free their now obvious erections. Her eyes went wide with greed. She wasn’t sure where to look, wanting to see exactly what was happening in both directions. The decision was taken from her when Cullen grabbed her jaw and presented her with his cock pressed to her lips.

“So, do you want to know how much coin it was that I get to fuck you for? I think it’s funny how I owed your man money and yet I get to repay him by making you a whore.”

Cullen shocked her yet again with his crass words. Ser Prim and Proper was certainly showing a side of himself that never saw daylight in the Gallows. He didn’t give her the chance to answer his question because he shoved his cock into her mouth in one go. She heard someone groan. She couldn’t say if it was Cullen, Fenris or her. Little did she care. Her Templar tasted divine and he wasn’t shy about putting his words into action. Cullen held onto her head, caressing her cheeks tenderly with his thumbs even as he forced himself down her throat over and over again. Her whole body was tingling with excitement as he fucked her face and she could barely take in all the sensations. _Maker_ , she could barely take all of him in her mouth! Her cunt was burning with need. She wished they’d let her get undressed so she could at least touch herself. She decided to chance fondling Cullen instead. With hesitant fingers she tickled up his thighs and around to grasp at his rock hard buttocks. He growled and she squeezed again. She wished she could see Fenris from where she was but she had to content herself with just knowing he was there. _Watching_.

Her desire soaked her smalls and she tried rubbing her legs together. Unfortunately she was caught in the act. Cullen withdrew from her mouth and grabbed her up by her hair to bring them face to face. She almost reached up to grab his hair and pull right back, but she was shocked by the intensity she saw in his eyes, wild and restrained at the same time. Still, it seemed, he was controlling his beast. With heaving breath and clenched teeth he looked like a man who wanted to fuck his borrowed mage into tomorrow. But he was holding back.

She didn’t want him to hold back. And she was certain Fenris didn’t want him to either. Fenris could have brought anyone into their bed. Any number of stunning men and even more ravishing women would have jumped at the offer. Dull men. Boring women. Fenris didn’t choose any of them. He chose a Templar.

She and Fenris never spoke in explicit words about the dynamics of their love. He had every reason to hate mages and she had every reason to reject his rejection of her kind. Yet, from the moment they met, they were drawn to one another. She knew, behind their backs, some people whispered things about them. She was a mage for him to secretly dominate. He was a pawn for her to use as her shield against a mage hating world. Nothing healthy. Nothing _normal_.

If those things were true somewhere deep inside their souls, what did it matter? If the world made them as they were, then the Maker truly had a plan for them if he’d brought them together to suit one another so completely. Their points of rivalry, of disagreement, of friction served to heal the very things that fueled them in the end. And they were happy. Fenris was happy, _even if he would never admit it aloud_ , and she loved making him happy, _even if she bitched about it endlessly_. He knew she was good for him and the same was he for her.

And somehow, all of that antithesis brought them here, with someone else very much like Fenris, who perhaps also needed someone very much like her. Hawke didn’t know the extent to which the two men spoke to each other of things they kept from others. Over cards and coin and too much drink, they may have shared the demons they both held inside.

Her silly suggestion of a night of passion with someone like Isabela would not have suited them. The kind of passion the pirate favored wasn’t what Fenris was looking for. Passion wasn’t just lust. It was anger, joy, despair, elation and the freedom to express them all. Hawke understood that and she was certain she could convince Cullen of that as well. He needed to let it all out and be truly passionate with them, without reservation.

“Cullen.” His name felt good on her lips. “ _Do it again_.” Still a little breathless, she couldn’t believe she’d asked for it after it was said aloud. Neither could he, apparently.

“What?” His eyes were glazed over in a fog of sex-crazed confusion.

“You know ‘what’, Templar.” She snarled and she let her magic rise up, not enough to discharge, but enough to make her energy felt. Getting the response she was looking for, Cullen acted on instinct and hit her again with the cold chill of silence. It was stronger this time, less disciplined. She almost collapsed to the floor, but he swept her up and carried her over to Fenris where he was still sitting in his chair. Her head lolled but she was able to see her elf stroking himself lazily with a look of conceited satisfaction at his usually verbose woman being effectively muzzled.

Cullen set her down on her feet, but continued to support her with one of his brawny arms. He stroked his cock a few times, still drenched in her saliva, before he brought his hand up to to her spine and pushed her down to bend at the waist.

“His turn.” His voice was rough and raw and though he was most certainly giving her an order, Hawke could still sense a hesitancy about it. Not for her, but for himself.

Hawke licked her lips. She would _show_ Cullen how she and Fenris found harmony and before the night was through she swore she would make sure he found it too. It was the season for giving, afterall.

So, with a deep breath, she descended on Fenris with all of her formidable skill. She’d known no other man but him in so long, having Cullen was a shock of newness that perhaps shocked her into being clumsily passive. Not so now. She knew every little thing that made Fenris mad, both good and bad. With each pass of her lips and each flick of her tongue, his lyrium light rose and rose, blazing brighter than the fire. She could feel Cullen behind her, pumping himself to the rhythm of her sucks and she never took her eyes from Fenris. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair and his jaw was set in concentration. He was trying not to buck up wantonly into her mouth but failing at frequent intervals. She had them both grunting and breathing fast, forgetting themselves and their purpose. Fenris was almost there, she could tell, and she’d almost seduced him into his climax when he grabbed her head abruptly. He slid her mouth from his cock and leaned forward to speak.

“Still jockeying for control, are you?”

Hawke just smiled.

“I would expect no less.” Cullen answered for her. “Eyes on me again, then. Seems like you can’t be trusted to enjoy this without being an evil little minx.” He lifted her up and turned her to face him. Fenris stood up behind her and the two of them worked quickly to remove all of her clothes.

When she was naked, Fenris let his hands roam over his territory while Cullen watched.  Hawke, in turn, watched Cullen.

The Templar’s lips were parted and his chest moved steadily with deep breaths. His eyes were transfixed on the fluid movements of Fenris’ hands as they caressed her breasts, ran down her stomach and then disappeared between her legs.

Cullen just stared, his stiff posture  hiding  the tumult of emotion that Hawke  could so obviously see in his eyes. He looked _hungry_ . Fenris must have seen the same thing. Fenris probably _felt_ the same thing many times in the past. “Do you want to kiss her, my friend?” His voice was low and soft and not so much a welcome to do so, but permission.

The ferocity of Cullen’s stare deepened and Hawke could almost hear the muscles in his body tighten. She could almost feel his heart beating faster inside his chest. _Or was that her heart?_

When he kissed her, it was with true passion. Everything she knew it to be, everything she always had with Fenris. At first it was uncertain, then softly tentative. More pressure after a only a few moments, with eager curiosity. After only a few moments more he was kissing her with heated spirit and stealing her breath away. Between Fenris’ hands all over her and Cullen’s lips devouring her, Hawke, _‘for once’_ , truly had nothing to say. She couldn’t even form her thoughts around words.

When Cullen finally stopped, the men immediately moved on to the next stage of their cooperative assault on her. Fenris sat down in the chair again and guided her backwards while Cullen busied himself by gathering her hair into his fist. Without any warning at all, Fenris sat her right down on his cock and Cullen filled her mouth again stifling her cry of surprise at the tandem invasion. There was nothing she could do now, but let it happen. Held up by her hair, her head was bobbed up and down on Cullen, while Fenris pulled her down onto his shaft from where he sat. She closed her eyes and gave in.

Amazingly, she discovered something in the silence; an epiphany of private pleasure as the men took their pleasure from her. For all the times she rushed to her own climax, forcing and pushing and demanding as she always had to do for everything else in life, she decided that just enjoying and waiting for something good was just as good when you trusted that you would get it. Equally amazingly, she trusted these men. She didn’t know everything about their past. She knew more than she wanted to about their present. As for their future, they were writing it now, with her, and she had every hope that their futures would all be better than what had come before.

Cullen was first, and his bellow shook her from her delirium. He pulled her hair tighter and she felt him stiffen even more inside her mouth until he came down her throat with such force she couldn’t swallow it all in time. When he pulled out, it spilled down her chin and mingled with her saliva to create a depraved picture of herself she could only imagine. And she probably would imagine it many times in the days to come in fond remembrance. Fenris was still fucking her to his own rhythm, faster and deeper, when Cullen suddenly bent down and stole another kiss.

She gasped into his mouth as he tasted her, _and himself_ , with ravenous abandon. There was no retreat from her climax, no holding it off. It hit her like a lightning bolt and she thought her fingers might have sparked a bit of reckless magic when the bliss erupted in her head. Fenris thrust up into her, deep and steady, letting her ride out her orgasm to it’s end before he quickened to a frenzied pace until he too peaked joining her and Cullen on the other side.

Too content to pay attention to what happened next, Hawke just closed her eyes and somehow she ended up in the bed. She stretched under the downy blankets feeling thoroughly full of holiday cheer. Spreading her limbs wide, one arm found Fenris and the other found Cullen. The men were silent, so she volunteered the first post-ecstasy words.

“So, are you staying, Templar?”

Cullen’s hoarse reply was weary as sleep tugged at his consciousness. “I shouldn’t…”

“You should.” Like a chorus, both she and Fenris answered together.

Hawke giggled. “Fenris seems to think wishes are curses. I think we’ve managed to prove that theory wrong, wouldn’t you say?” She turned on her side to face Cullen who was looking up at the bed’s canopy and biting his lower lip in contemplation. Fenris curled up behind her and they waited for his answer.

“I think...I think I might have agreed with him. Until now.”

“ _Marian Hawke:_ ” She said her name dramatically, “ _slayer of Qunari, darkspawn, dragons and dumbass Tevinter curses._ ”

“And demons.” Cullen added.

“And demons.” Fenris concurred.

Hawke suspected they were speaking both literally and figuratively. She shifted around between the sheets and gathered them both up until all three of them were sharing body heat and lyrium light.

Snow continued to fall outside, wine was left unfinished and the fire burned down to embers. Soon, the men were asleep but she lay awake with a contentment in her heart like no other Satinalia in the past had ever brought her. It was a good holiday. And, in the end, everyone got what they wished for.


End file.
